


Day One

by fine_feathered_fiend



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: (and he is), (more or less), Briefly follows canon, Clarke thinks Bellamy is beautiful, Cuddling & Snuggling, Doctor Clarke, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Intimacy, Literal Sleeping Together, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Bellamy, Sleepy Clarke, The Author Regrets Nothing, canonverse, for like 2 seconds, kinda sorta, lots of arm holding, rated for language, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 08:17:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9539432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fine_feathered_fiend/pseuds/fine_feathered_fiend
Summary: A shippy speculation fic on what may or may not take place in 4x01. This originally started out serious and then devolved pretty quickly into fluff that I'm not even remotely sorry about. Lots of emotional talks. Lots of casual intimacy. Bits of angst thrown in here and there. All that fun stuff.Aka: the one where Bellamy and Clarke figure out how to save the world. Together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this before we got all of the sneak peeks for 4x01, so eventually I kinda gave up on making it follow canon. Fair warning, this probably won't happen in canon. (Oh but I would die if it did...)

Everything stopped with the slash of a blade. The chaos and cries filling the crowded throne room died away and were replaced by the sickening sound of steel slicing through flesh.

Pike fell to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Dark red blood pooled on the floor. Octavia stood over his body, eyes filled with rage and sword trained expertly in her grasp.

Clarke’s mouth hung open. _Did she just--_ Bellamy dropped her hand and her head whipped to the side, briefly afraid that he might intervene. But he just stood there, completely still, eyes glued desperately on his little sister.

Octavia shot him a look that made Clarke’s blood run cold, then turned sharply and stalked out of the throne room without looking back. The heavy wooden doors slammed shut behind her and for one painfully isolating moment, everything was silent.

Then Kane stood up from where he’d been kneeling on the floor, hand grasping Abby’s shoulder, and called out frantically, “Octavia, wait--”

“Don’t--” Bellamy cut him off, voice harsh and ragged. “Just… don’t.”

Kane stared at Bellamy like he’d been slapped. His eyes fell to the floor and Abby gently held his hand.

Clarke looked back at Bellamy to find him staring at the wall, hands bunched into tight fists at his sides. “Bellamy...” she began softly, her heart breaking when he wouldn’t look at her. “Hey--” she tried again, touching his arm, just barely-- “Are you okay?”

He shut his eyes for a moment and let out a shaky breath. Then he turned to look at her, eyes glossy, and her heart broke even further. “Are you?” he asked, barely audible, as if he were afraid of the answer.

 _He needs to know._ “Come on,” she took his arm in both hands now, pulling him away from the throne and the curious eyes that stared at them from all directions. “Let’s talk.” She made her way across the crowded room and he followed easily, letting her tug him gently behind her.

They walked quickly past Abby and Kane, and Clarke could practically feel ice fill the air between them as Bellamy pressed closer to her from behind.

Abby looked at Clarke in question, but she just shook her head. “It’s okay. We’re okay,” she said simply, not lending much in the way of an explanation.

Abby paused for a moment, then nodded, seeming to accept Clarke’s loose answer. “Let me know if you need anything,” she said, unable to completely hide the concern behind her voice.

“Of course,” Clarke gave a tight-lipped smile, then turned and kept walking.

Bellamy said nothing, following right behind.

“Do you still have your pack?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah, it’s right over there,” he gestured towards a mess of supplies by the throne, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Did you pack a med kit?”

“Of course I packed a med kit, I’m not an idiot.”

A smile played on Clarke’s lips. “I know. Go grab your pack, okay? We’ll go somewhere quiet and, uh, I’ll tell you how I am.”

Bellamy swallowed thickly. “Okay.” And with that he turned and walked briskly across the room, broad shoulders tightly wound and hands playing nervously at the line in his pants. Noise and conversation picked up once again and the room fell back into emotional chaos.

And for just a moment, Clarke wished that she didn’t have to tell him.

* * *

“The world is ending,” Bellamy repeated dazedly, staring off into empty space. Clarke could practically see the gears turning in his head. He rubbed a spot on his temple tensely, then pulled his hand back and looked irritatedly at the smear of blood on his fingers. He wiped his hand on his pants and sighed, leaning forward on his knees as he sat on one of the wooden stools strewn about the empty guest room. It was moderately well kept: only a thin layer of dust coated the room and it smelled like old candles and freshly cut pine. The wooden floors were dry and smooth, and all of the furniture looked fairly new. Clean. Cared for. _I wonder how long it’ll last._

Clarke nodded somberly, looking up from the fold of gauze she was dousing in antiseptic. _The world is_ actually _ending._

“Are you sure?” he asked, not even bothering to look hopeful.

“That’s what ALIE said. Within six months all of the power plants will have melted down and the Earth won’t be survivable, even for those born in space,” she said, handing the fold of gauze off to Bellamy.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, wiping gently at the dried blood that coated his face, wincing slightly when he brushed against the brutal gash framing his cheekbone. “And we’re trusting ALIE because…”

“I don’t think she can lie. At least Becca made it seem like she couldn’t,” she said, dabbing tediously at the puncture wounds in her chest. It felt like her brain was overflowing with new and unbelievable information with one common denominator: bad things are about to happen. Again.

“You saw Becca?” Bellamy asked incredulously, handing back the crimson stained fabric. His face look marginally better, although a streak of dark blood remained underneath his right eye.

“Here--” Clarke took the pad of gauze with one hand and gently cupped Bellamy’s chin with the other-- “you missed a spot,” she murmured, softly dabbing the blood off of his tanned skin. Each time she wiped at his cheekbone, it seemed like a new smattering of freckles was revealed, until a series of constellations spread across his face. Clarke distantly wondered what stories she’d find among them, if she only had the time to look.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, dark brown eyes locked onto hers with a sensation of complete and utter trust that took her breath away.

She smiled slightly and nodded, unable to look away. “Happy to help,” she said, finally dropping her hand from his chin, letting it hang limply at her side.

“So--” Bellamy started, breaking eye contact to look at the scrapes covering his knuckles-- “Becca?”

“Right--” Clarke shook her head, clearing her thoughts. She’d been so blown away by the impending apocalypse that she nearly forgot Bellamy hadn’t been there with her to hear the news. _To pull another lever._ “At the end-- right before I destroyed the City of Light-- Raven led me to this door, and I saw ALIE, but I also saw Becca.”

“Wait-- I thought we got Raven out of the City of Light?” Bellamy’s brow creased with concern and he crossed his arms, leaning forward in his seat.

“No, we did--” Clarke clarified, frustration building under her skin. _Fuck, I’m just making things even more confusing--_ “I didn’t _see_ Raven, but there was this… this raven-- like the bird-- that I think she projected onto this doorway. And yeah, that’s how I found ALIE… and Becca.”

“Alright…”

“Jasper was there too,” she added. _I’m already in this deep, might as well keep going._ “Only he was working with ALIE. I think he took the chip on purpose, Bellamy.”

A pained expression crossed Bellamy’s face. “Yeah, uh, things were pretty hard for Jasper after--” he cut himself off, looking down at his hands. They were folded quietly in his lap, the knuckles swollen and bruised purple. Rough scrapes ran across his fingers with smears of blood in the creases, but that was nothing new. Sometimes it felt like Bellamy was always bleeding.

“After I killed his girlfriend then left for three months?” Clarke finished, smiling bitterly.

Bellamy raised his eyebrows. “Okay, first of all: _we_ killed his girlfriend. I know you want to take the blame for what happened in Mount Weather but you can’t. I pulled the lever just as much as you did, Clarke. That’s on me too.”

“I know… But you stayed, Bellamy. I left. I abandoned them...” _I abandoned you._ “And then I go and do _this?_ I just condemned the entire human race to complete extinction in less than six months!” She was up on her feet now, pacing nervously in front of him.

“Clarke…” his brow furrowed sadly, but Clarke turned around, facing the other wall. _I don’t deserve his forgiveness._

“ALIE was just trying to help… And I-- I doomed _everyone_ because I pulled that lever instead of just letting them--”

“Clarke--” a warm hand grasped her shoulder and she whipped around, nearly knocking into Bellamy. He stared down at her worriedly, letting his hand slide limply down her arm. She caught it at the last second, holding it in both of hers when he didn’t protest.

“I didn’t have the right to make that decision for everyone,” she said, voice wavering. She ran her thumbs over his bruised knuckles and let out a shuddering breath. “I-- I just--”

“Kane almost killed me,” he said suddenly, quietly.

Clarke’s head shot up. _“What?”_

Bellamy’s jaw clenched, but he continued. “You were in the City of Light. We were fighting against all of the chipped people and trying not to kill them, and we were doing so well but then Kane and a bunch of chipped Grounders came in…” he stared off at the wall briefly, then looked down at their hands. “Kane came after me. I fought back at first but then things started to get bad and I-- I couldn’t--”

“I know…” Clarke hushed. “It’s okay, I know you didn’t want to hurt him.” And she did. She saw the way Bellamy looked at Kane. It reminded her of the strange kind of love she felt for her mother. _Only I wasn’t as kind to her…_

“I didn’t want to _kill_ him. It wasn’t his fault-- he was chipped-- but he got the upper hand and then he started choking me…” his voice trailed off, and Clarke’s gaze drifted down to the purple bruises lining his neck. She held his hand tighter. He adjusted their grip, letting Clarke weave her fingers between his, and sighed heavily. He looked so tired. “Everything got a little fuzzy after that. I think I was starting to pass out right when he let me go. And he was looking at me like...”

“Like he just realized what he was doing,” Clarke finished for him.

“Yeah.”

A chill ran down her spine. _Just a few more seconds and I would’ve lost him…_

“I know that ALIE said she was trying to help, but you saw what she did to Raven. To your mom.”

“To Kane,” she added softly, leaning her head on his shoulder.

He pressed back into her, taking a deep breath. “You did the right thing, Clarke. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but reality is better than anything ALIE could’ve given us.” His voice was quiet, yet overwhelming. “Even if we only have another six months.”

“We’re going to figure this out, right?”

“You’re damn right we are,” Bellamy said surely.

Clarke huffed a laugh. “That’s the spirit.”

* * *

The long walk back to Arkadia was only made longer by the horrible secret held between them. Every smile, every laugh, was tainted by the knowledge that their newly found peace was going to be short lived. On the plus side, there was plenty of death and destruction to be found as well.

Corpses littered every corner of Polis, coating the streets with a sickening layer of stale blood. Several buildings had been burnt and torn apart to varying levels of destruction, their parts taken and built into countless makeshift crucifixes that Clarke couldn’t look away from.

 _Were we really made to survive?_ She didn’t know. With each passing tragedy it felt like maybe things were supposed to end in a spectacular display of fiery mayhem and torturous loss. The universe had certainly made more than a few attempts in that direction.

 _Maybe it’s all for nothing._ The thoughts tormented her as they walked out of Polis and through the eerily quiet forest to Arkadia. No one stopped them. No one followed them. They were all far too busy grieving and picking up the pieces of their own lives to tear apart someone else’s. Clarke was almost grateful for that. But again: the peace was temporary. She was certain of that much.

Bellamy walked silently at her side the entire way home, rifle balanced in his arms like it was nothing more than an extension of himself. His eyes continually scanned the forest. At first Clarke thought it was for potential attackers, but after the hours ticked by without assault she realized he was looking for someone else entirely.

 _“Give her time.”_ The words pricked at the back of her subconscious. It felt like a lifetime ago that she’d given Bellamy that calm reassurance. That she’d wrapped him in her arms and given him shelter from everything horrible in the world that plagued him. And now? Bellamy had given Octavia time. But it wasn’t enough.

Clarke bumped her arm gently into Bellamy’s as they walked side by side through the quiet forest. He whipped his head to the side and looked at her like he was coming out of a dream. She gave him a tight-lipped smile and his eyes cast downward.

“She’ll be okay,” Bellamy said firmly. Self-assured. He nodded once and looked back out at the distant tree line, and Clarke knew that he that he wasn’t entirely convinced.

“I know,” she said, just as surely as he had, and he peered at her out of the corner of his eye.

They continued walking silently for a moment, and Clarke stared ahead, feeling Bellamy’s gaze burning into her skin. “She just needs time, right?” he said suddenly, his voice wavering slightly.

A pang ran through Clarke’s chest. After everything that Octavia had done, Clarke wasn’t sure she understood why she did what she did. _She has to have a reason, I just don’t know what it is…_

Bellamy swallowed thickly at her silence and looked away.

Clarke’s heart fell. “I’m sorry…” she said limply.

“It’s fine,” he murmured. “I just… I can’t…” he broke off, staring up at the pine trees towering above them. It was a warm afternoon, and the sunlight filtered gently through the tree branches, illuminating the forest floor in a soft golden glow. “It’s her life. If Octavia wants to leave, I can’t stop her,” he finished, looking back at her sadly. A ray of sunlight fell across Bellamy’s face, lighting his eyes up with a flicker of amber, and for a moment Clarke could scarcely believe that someone could be so beautiful. _So beautiful and broken._

Without thinking, she leaned over and wove her arm into the crook of his, leaning into the warmth of his touch. She brought her other hand up to his arm and rubbed her thumb over the fabric of his jacket, not caring if anyone saw their rare moment of intimacy. He let out a long sigh, and Clarke could practically feel the stress melting away from his limbs.

They remained that way for a long time, walking arm in arm through the twisting and weaving forest as if they were the only people left on Earth.

* * *

By the time they returned to Arkadia, everyone seemed largely content to call it a day and head off quietly to their quarters. Abby and Jackson had a long list of people that were being referred to the medbay first for evaluation (Clarke, fortunately, had argued hers and Bellamy’s way off of the list by stating that her “stab wounds” were far from fatal and that Bellamy didn’t have a concussion) but otherwise the citizens of Arkadia were once again free to live their lives as they pleased. A large majority of them simply went to bed, while another (still considerably large) group of people made their way to the bar and immediately began working on forgetting that the day had ever existed in the first place.

As she watched battered and worn people filing down the various corridors of Arkadia, it occurred to Clarke that she didn’t actually have a room to stay in. During the brief amount of time that she _had_ stayed at Arkadia, after the massive ship had first fallen from the sky, everything was so temporary. When she wasn’t sleeping in a Grounder camp and acting as leader of “Skaikru” (what a time that had been…) she would catch a few hours of sleep in the medbay or by the radio in the engineering room. But a room? She never found the time to carve out a _real_ space for herself. The closest thing she had to a home at this point was Bellamy.

“Hey--” he whispered, tapping her gently on the forearm. She shook her head and looked away from the last couple of people that filed their way through the camp’s gates-- “We should really talk about this. Make a plan. All that fun stuff.”

“Yeah, definitely,” she agreed, crossing her arms. “Any ideas on where we can do that? I don’t think we should risk anyone overhearing this. Not yet.”

“No kidding. We can talk in my room. If I pretend I’m sleeping I doubt anyone will come by and bother us.”

Clarke huffed a laugh, “When do you ever sleep?”

Bellamy smiled cheekily and began walking towards the entrance of the West Block. “I think I slept once when I was a kid. I can’t remember, it was so long ago.”

That one pulled a genuine laugh out of Clarke.

“Hey, my memory isn’t perfect,” he continued, feigning offense. “I know that might be hard for _some people_ to understand, but most of us can’t remember everything that’s ever happened to them.”

“I can’t imagine what that must be like,” she said, unable to stop the grin that spread across her face. “It sounds awful.”

“Hmm, can’t relate,” a familiar voice called out to their right.

“Raven!” Clarke practically leaped the last couple of steps towards her friend, wrapping her in a tight hug. “Are you guys okay?”

“More or less,” she laughed, adjusting her balance before returning the hug. “Jasper stabbed Monty and tried to kill Harper but then Monty shot Jasper, so I guess it all evened out in the end.”

“And they’re okay after that?” Bellamy asked, also pulling Raven into a hug, despite the curious expression on his face.

“Of course they’re fine, they’re tough little shits. Also Jasper was chipped so once you took care of that it was smooth sailing,” she said, pulling away with a brilliant smile across her face. She looked exhausted, dark circles bruised underneath her eyes, but her grin was vibrant nonetheless. “How about you guys? I mean it’s not unusual to see one of you bleeding, but still.”

“Oh, yeah--” Clarke looked down at the cuts in her chest. “Uh, my mom was chipped and ALIE had her try and torture me so I’d give up the password to the flame.” It sounded so simple when she said it out loud that she nearly laughed.

“Jeez, sounds fun. I’m guessing it didn’t work?”

“Nope,” she said, giving a halfhearted smile. She still couldn’t shake the image of her mother dropping off the stool and writhing in the air. She had a sinking feeling that it was yet another horrific memory that she’d never be completely free of.

Raven picked up the smile for her. “That’s my girl. ALIE didn’t know what she was up against.” Her positive energy only made Clarke feel more depressed. _We’re going to have to tell Raven at some point._ “How about you?” she gestured at Bellamy, pulling a face when her eyes fell on his throat. “Also ALIE?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said quietly. “It was Kane, but he was chipped so, yknow.”

Raven looked at him for a moment, deep in thought. “You remember when I was chipped, right?”

“How could I forget,” he huffed jokingly, despite the crease that still wore deep between his brows.

“ALIE made me dislocate my own shoulder, bite Clarke, harass _all_ of you, and try to kill myself, _twice,_ ” she said bluntly. “I had no control over anything I did, and I guarantee you that Kane didn’t either. Also your mom, Clarke--” she added on.

“I know,” Clarke gave Raven a half smile, then looked back at Bellamy.

He nodded quietly, eyes trained carefully on the ground. “Thanks, Raven.”

She shrugged simply. “People don’t hurt the people that they care about, Bellamy. I know Kane wouldn’t do that to you on purpose.”

Bellamy’s jaw ticked at that, and his breath stutter-stepped. Just barely. So slightly that Clarke almost missed it. “Yeah,” he said roughly, clearing his throat.

“Anyway,” Raven continued, not seeming to notice the slight change in his demeanor. “ I’m gonna head to the bar for a bit before my brain finally catches up with me and I pass out for good. Wanna come with?”

“Actually, I’m just gonna head back to my room. And if anyone asks can you just tell them that I’m sleeping?”

“Yeah, sure,” she nodded. “Although you really should sleep for real. You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” he scoffed.

Raven laughed and held up her hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I only speak the truth. How about you, Clarke? Fancy a drink?”

“I wish, but I’m gonna help my mom out in the medbay,” she lied smoothly. “They’re pretty slammed right now.”

“Your loss. Tell Abby I said hi, okay?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Alright, I’m gonna go get wasted. It’s not every day you take out an evil AI, right? I gotta celebrate!”

“Have fun,” Clarke laughed. “I’ll be with you in spirit.”

“Ah yes, and I will be with the spirits. Particularly, moonshine.”

“See ya, Reyes,” Bellamy said, smiling slightly.

“See ya!” she called over her shoulder, making her way towards the bar with a slightly uneven step.

“We gotta tell Raven,” Bellamy said miserably. “God I’m not looking forward to that.”

“We can tell her tomorrow, once we figure out what our game plan is. Until then, we might as well let her be happy.”

“Fair enough.”

“Come on,” she nudged his side. “Take me to your room.”

Bellamy huffed a laugh. “Eager, are we?”

A pink flush spread across Clarke’s cheeks. “Shut up,” she hissed, hitting him in the arm. “This is serious, Bellamy.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, face falling slightly. “It’s right down this corridor.” He gestured with a hand, walking down the dim metal pathway, letting Clarke follow behind at a comfortable pace.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, wishing she didn’t have to cut his joking short. Clarke liked it when Bellamy smiled. God knows it didn’t happen enough these days. She liked knowing that he was happy, even if it was just for a moment, and she liked it even more when she was the cause of his happiness.

She’d certainly caused him more than enough pain. It was only fair that she could finally do the opposite. To make him smile. Maybe one day make him laugh. But for now? She’d have to settle for planning for the impending apocalypse with him. She nearly rolled her eyes at the thought. _Just another day on the ground._

“Here it is,” he said finally, stopping in front of a heavy metal door. It reminded Clarke of the doors from the C wing of the Ark, and she distantly realized they probably were in the C wing. Or rather, what was left of it.

He held the door open and gestured through the entrance. “After you, Princess.”

Clarke huffed a laugh, flicking on the light switch. “And they say chivalry’s dead.”

“Right? I’m bringing it back, but it’s been a process,” Bellamy teased, closing the door securely behind them.

“How noble of you.” Clarke grinned lightly and began walking around the tiny space. It was a fairly small room, but that was typical of the quarters in the C wing. Those rooms were generally reserved for single adults, and their architecture reflected that intention. There was a dresser, a desk, and a bed. All standard. Nothing stood out to Clarke, and that in itself was what made it unusual. Throughout the entire space there wasn’t a single item that she could identify as uniquely Bellamy’s, save for two old books stacked carefully on the corner of the desk and an extra pair of boots next to the dresser. Otherwise, it was like no one even lived there.

“What.”

“Nothing,” Clarke said, shaking her head innocently. “It’s nice.”

Bellamy crossed his arms. “Oh come on, you made a face. Spit it out.”

“I just…” she stopped for a moment and sighed. _Why does this even bother me?_ “I can barely tell it’s your room, that’s all.”

“Well, what did you expect?”

“I just thought it’d be more… personalized?” _Oh god what am I even saying._ She rubbed the spot between her brows and tried again. “I don’t know, what was your room like on the Ark?”

“I didn’t _have_ a room on the Ark. It was me, my mom, and uh… Octavia. All in one room,” he said, completely deadpan.

“Oh… right…” _Nice going, Clarke. Way to be an asshole._

“Not everyone grew up in the A wing with parents on the Council.”

“I know I know,” she said, mentally kicking herself. “I’m sorry, it’s just that we’ve been on the ground for so long. I almost forgot that we had a life before this.”

“No kidding,” Bellamy huffed, sitting down on his bed. “What’s it been, four months?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

He sighed heavily, shaking his head. “It feels like a lifetime ago. Or two.”

“Or three,” Clarke added with a hint of a smile.

“Yeah,” he laughed softly. “Three lifetimes ago, that sounds about right.”

“And now we only have six months left,” she murmured limply. It still hadn’t fully hit her. How could anyone _ever_ come to terms with the world ending, much less in a day? It hung over her like a dark cloud. No matter where she looked, it was there. Watching. Waiting. Counting down the seconds.

“Hey, if we’re using the same system, that’s a little more than four lifetimes, right?” he gave her a half smile that she returned sadly.

Six months.

It wasn’t enough.

* * *

They spent the next few hours tediously planning their next few moves. The questions seemed to pour out of them, one after another until Clarke could scarcely believe that anyone let her make _any_ decisions. Then she remembered that she wasn’t exactly asking for permission. Fortunately, Bellamy was more than happy to act as a sounding board for the worse ideas (“Trust me, Mount Weather is unsalvageable. The Ice Nation completely destroyed it.”) and the voice of reason for the better ones (“No matter what, we have to tell Raven and Monty. They’ll know how to handle the science side of this.”)

Who do we tell? (Raven, Monty, Abby, and Kane were right at the top of a very short list.)

Who do we not tell? (“We can’t tell anyone else,” Bellamy had said, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Right,” Clarke had agreed. _Crowds make bad decisions._ )

The hours ticked by, one after another, until they had practically talked the topic to death. It still didn’t feel like enough.

The analog clock on the wall read 2:55AM when Clarke finally threw in the towel. “I can’t think of anything else,” she groaned, squeezing her hair in her fists. “That’s it. I give up. We’re screwed.”

“We’ll try again tomorrow,” Bellamy said simply, standing up and stretching his arms with a deep yawn.

The first thought that sprung to Clarke’s mind was: _He’s adorable._ “Uh, yeah,” she said, shaking her head. “Once we get more minds on this we’ll figure it out.” She stood up from her seat at the desk and rolled her neck tiredly. _I hope._

“Hey--” he reached out suddenly, grabbing her forearm with a feather-light grip-- “we’re going to figure this out. We are. I promise you.”

“Yeah?” she asked, softly. Barely audible. He was so close, just a few inches away. It wasn’t close enough.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. Just barely. Just enough that the ends of his lips quirked up in that little way that Clarke loved. She wanted to see it again. She wanted to see it every day for the rest of her life. And she wanted the rest of her life to be longer than six months.

She leaned into his chest and breathed him in. “I hope we figure it out soon,” she murmured. He smelled warm. Earthy. Like leather and pine and a million other things that she couldn’t even explain. But she loved them all.

He gently placed a hand on her back and stopped, almost as if he expected her to pull away at the last second. “Me too.” His voice was deep and raspy. Clarke could feel the vibrations run through her when he spoke.

She snuggled deeper into his chest, wrapping her arms around the one pinned between them, and hummed contentedly.

Bellamy let out a soft laugh and it was like liquid sunshine. “Tired, are we?” he asked, and Clarke could practically see the smile on his face. He ran his free hand up and down her back. It’s warmth was so soothing that it nearly took her apart.

“You have no idea,” she mumbled into his shirt. “Can I just sleep right here? Please?”

“Against my shirt?” he laughed again and Clarke couldn’t hold back her smile.

“Ideally, yeah. But mostly I just mean in here. With you.”

His hand stopped. “Oh.”

She leaned back slightly and tilted her head upward, looking at him through her lashes. “Is that okay?”

He looked down at her, mouth hanging open, and for a moment Clarke could’ve sworn that he stopped breathing. Then he tucked her gently under his chin and continued running his hand across her back. “Yeah… Yeah, that’s fine.”

She sighed happily and relaxed even deeper in his arms. “Okay, good. I just don’t want to overstep. Don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He held her tighter. “I doubt you could ever make me uncomfortable.” The smile was back in his words. She wanted it to stay there forever.

“I can try,” she teased, smiling even deeper when he laughed again.

“I’m sure.”

“I don’t like sleeping alone,” she murmured, distantly realizing that while she’d thought it many times, she never once said it aloud to another person. Until Bellamy.

“Yeah?” he asked softly. He was so gentle. How could someone strong enough to take a life with his bare hands be so gentle?

“It reminds me of when I was in solitary,” she admitted quietly. “Don’t like being alone.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then he spoke softer than Clarke had ever heard him. “I get that. I really do.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

If there was more to the night, Clarke couldn’t remember it. All she knew was that she was safe. She was warm.

She was home.

* * *

When Clarke woke the next morning, she was lying in Bellamy’s bed, clutching his arm against her chest. His blanket was wrapped carefully around her, while Bellamy laid on top of the sheets.

Clarke rolled her eyes. _Idiot._ She quietly untangled the blanket from her limbs with one arm and gently set it over Bellamy. He stirred slightly at the movement, then nuzzled his face deeper into his arm and let out a sigh.

She couldn’t help but smile. _When’s the last time he got any real sleep?_ She didn’t know. But if she were judging by the circles under his eyes and how far he was gone in that moment, it was probably a long, long time.

The clock on the wall read 9:27AM, but for the first time since they landed on the ground, Clarke couldn’t care less. _He needs this,_ she reasoned, as she reached out and pushed the hair out of his eyes. _He needs rest._ She gently stroked his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones. _God knows he doesn’t get enough._ Her hand twined softly into the line of his hair.

And on some level, Clarke realized that she probably needed it too. Even if it was just for a moment.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic kinda snuck up on me out of nowhere-- I definitely didn't have any plans to write this-- but I hope you liked it!!
> 
> Special thanks to Eden (sassybellamyblake) as always for being an amazing friend and letting me harass her with my fics at all hours of the day and night. I love you bar <3 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!! Lemme know what you think ;)


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